Shadows of a Broken World
by MRegent.2 and Pangie
Summary: As Britannia marches over the world the Nation's souls are captured one by one and embranded as the 'Areas' of the Empire. As Britannia defeats the EU however he captures someone from his past that helped make him who he is.
1. The Stolen Throne

Disclaimer: I do not own Code Geass, Axis Powers: Hetalia or any of their associated characters or fictional locations.

Britannia strode down the halls of his house, his military uniform pressed and crisp, noting the new names on each of the doors he passed, it had been a good year. He has finally managed to strike against the EU and wrest several nation from the Confederation, the new people and land freshly added to his territory added a spring to his step, the recently-conquered land adding to his strength and vitality, the sensation of millions of new citizens brought a smile to the Superpower's face.

Spain.

Italy.

France.

He passed the doors, each containing a former nation, each of whom were still in shock, recovering from their wounds and coming to terms with their new positions as colonies within Britannia . Soon however each of the doors would have a new plaque bearing the area designations that marked a member of the empire, the sign that even names and cultures of the former nations had been stripped away, leaving only another territory, a limbo-like existence, not a part of Britannia itself but not a nation.

Poland.

Hungary.

Austria.

The eastern territories had been far more difficult to subdue than he had expected, his first conquests had been easy in comparison. Then again he had been waging a direct war against the western territories for well over a decade before he launched his main assault, France, Spain and Italy were hardly warlike nations in the first place, even Spain at his height with his armada had been utterly destroyed by the supposedly weaker Arthur long before the latter had gained his Empire.

At any rate, the eastern nations were now his, and no amount of difficultly in gaining them would change that. In fact, when he thought about it, it only solidified his claim,

Denmark.

Switzerland.

Germany.

His smile disappeared, he was now entering the part of the corridor whose doors were made of steel as opposed to the Pine which the more docile natio- _colonies_ were graced with, complete with large padlocks and guards who saluted him as he passed. It was these nations had cost him more than he cared to remember to conquer, but they were also the source of his greatest pride. He stopped and backtracked, causing the guards to sweat in fear that they had displeased their nation.

Britannia ignored them and instead allowed his fingers to glide along the smooth steel, four inches thick as per his orders until he came to the name carved into the smooth steel.

His hand reached up to a small panel set to his head height, unlocking it with a small key from his pocket. He pulled the panel open revealing a grill through which one could see the interior of the cell.

Like the door the inside of the cell was made of steel, ensuring the cell would posses a bone-biting chill on even the hottest of days, not that much heat could reach the cell, the 'holding rooms' of his house being set under a mile of concrete.

Room was bare except for two things, a thick glass panel behind which an electric light shone, brightly as if it were the sun at midday, of course this light never dimmed. Being sleep-deprived would help make the stubborn colony more easily controlled, and the two-by-two metre room and reflective walls would ensure that no point was devoid of the intense rays. The second object within the room was the battered and bloodied form of what had once been Germany.

Britannia knew the nation had once again rendered himself unconscious in his attempts to break free despite the odds by the simple fact that he wasn't spitting profanities at the Empire. In that manner he was very much like his impulsive brother. Britannia winced as he remembered the last time he had seen the uncontrollable force known as Prussia his ragtag army of rebels forcing him from the shattered remains of Berlin, swearing to personally drive the Empire from his brother's lands.

Prussia had once again proved to Britannia that the most important element in battle was the human one.

He shut the steel panel, once again sealing himself from his new colony, and turned to regard the other two trapped behind the cold steel. Denamrk had been surprisingly difficult to capture, just when Britannia thought he had him at last the Nation would find some method of escape, usually finding some way to take a sizeable chunk out of his invader's forces, even now Britannia was having difficulty in preventing his escape, the Nordic Nation's people proving themselves unyielding even against the force of an Empire possessing well over a hundred times the military they wielded.

Switzerland hadn't exactly been a pushover either, easily proving himself to be as troublesome as any other Nation, along with his marksmanship. Knightmare frames were all but useless against the enraged nation's incredible long-rage weaponry. Even in defeat he had managed to spit in Britannia's face by using the last of his troops to build a protective barrier around his beloved adopted sister, even though it left himself defenceless.

Thanks to Switzerland it would take years for Britannia to break through to Liechtenstein with the dense concentration of battle-veteran's and advanced weaponry.

Britannia shook his head and continued on his way, despite what people thought he drew no pleasure from seeing his colonies on verge of death, it just happened that if he were to allow them to regain their strength he would be facing rebellion at every corner, and there was no way he was going through the kind of losses he taken before to regain one of his own colonies.

He was now reaching the end of the corridor, to the last room, and the most heavily guarded, a full squadron stationed around the doorway. The last door was made of titanium, with several keypads and a Sakuradite-powered deadlock seal. Britannia hesitated as he stood before the door, then shook himself and typed in the code into the keypad, releasing the seal and allowing the door to slid to the side.

The cell was unlike the others, while the other's were in constant illumination this cell was in constant darkness except when someone unsealed the door. The door itself has a special seal so that not even the faintest pinprick of light would creep from the sides. Where the other's were small, cramped affairs with shined walls this room was spacious, easily twenty-by twenty metres, with dull steel panels.

The walls were devoid of any feature except for one, at the very centre of the back wall was a figure, clamped upright by the steel bonds around his wrists and ankles, only ever released for two brief intervals each day.

Britannia's resisted the urge to wipe his damp palms on his trousers, instead fixing a jovial smile his to face and advancing to the bound figure. "Ahh, it's been so long Arthur, you should visit more often, I get worried you know."

The Nation twitched, then brought his emerald green eyes to challenge the Empire's sapphire blue orbs. "As if I would set foot on your bastard shores with anything less than an invasion _Alfred_."

Britannia frowned. "Oh come on Arthur, no need to be so aggressive, we're on the same side now-"

"We are no more on the same side than you are British!" Spat Britain. "You may have me shackled but if you think that because you destroyed London that I'm one your subservient colonies then you need to have your head checked!"

Alfred winced. "Don't make this more difficult than it has to be Arthur-"

Arthur cut him off again, "damn straight I'm going to make this more difficult than it has to be, if I'm going to be beaten by the likes of you then I'm going to die fighting, I'm not going to become a slave to a rip-off of my own culture!"

Britannia sighed. ".. Well I can't say I expected anything else, you're going to have to realise that you can't win Arthur I'm just too strong, the best option for everyone is to just cooperate with me-"

"And I suppose that _cooperation_ was the best option for Kiku too as well wasn't then?" Arthur scowled. "Last time I saw him he was barley alive-"

"He shouldn't have tried to break away!" Snapped Alfred, losing his composure. "If had just did as he was told he would be fine right now!"

"Yes, his people second-class citizens in their own country, being stripped of his resources to fuel his oppressors strength, yes he would have been bloody peachy wouldn't he! And that's not even the worst of it!" Snarled Arthur. "Even at my worst Alfred I didn't go as far as you have!"

Alfred resisted the urge to strike the bound Nation, _Nation _for in his mind he could never apply colony or area to _Britain_, it simply wasn't possible to join the two. The very idea that Arthur would ever be one his areas, the idea that his one-time older brother would serve him was so alien as to unimaginable. "Well maybe you should have! Maybe then you wouldn't be in this situation!"

Arthur froze for a moment, "... you know I never thought I would really ever hear those words from your mouth."

Alfred blinked. "What do you mean?'

Britain sighed, "you know, despite all these year's I never could imagine you becoming like this, the idea that you could do the things you did seemed impossible, some part of me never really believed that you really did the things you did. I suppose I was just being nostalgic, I should have realised that you aren't my little America any more, are you?"

Alfred stared at him for a moment, ".. I stopped being _America_ centuries ago. I'm Britannia now-"

"Enough dammit, I can't take this right now," snapped the bound Nation.

"I not the rebellious little brother you remember-"

"I SAID ENOUGH!" Shouted Britain.

"I took _your_ throne and made it _mine_! _I'm_ the one with the power now! _I'm_ the greatest empire the world has ever seen! And you? You're my newest colony, welcome to the family AREA TWENTY EIGHT!" Alfred shouted, his sides heaving as he let it sink in.

He had said it.

He had named Britain a colony.

A smile crept onto his face. At last, he had beaten his fear of his former brot- no, he was his brother again but this time Britannia was the strong one, Area Twenty One would be his little brother, and of course little brother's always got a little unruly now and then so he would have to discipline him.

"Get out."

Britannia frowned. "What?"

"I said get out you bastard, I have nothing more to say to you." Arthur looked away from him.

Britannia sighed, "well if you're going to make this difficult then we can keep you here until you learn your place, or until your people have been beaten into submission." Alfred suddenly leaned in close, grabbing Arthur's jaw and forcing him to look at him. "You're a part of the Empire now _little brother_ and the sooner you get used to it the better."

He released his new colony. "Once you come to your senses you'll realise that being a part of Britannia is being a part of the future, and you'll never be lonely again, because soon all will one..." a slightly lopsided smile graced his lips. "Charles promised me." And with that he left the room, happiness playing across his features.

"Damn it..." hissed Britain once Amer- Britannia had left him. "Area Twenty Eight eh? Not bloody likely!" He sighed again allowing himself to be immersed in his memories.

*****

_Britain levelled his musket at America, all he had to do to win was put a bullet into the ungrateful upstart and it would all be over._

_America's eyes were on him, still defiant despite everything, Arthur's finger inched toward the trigger._

_All he had to do was pull the trigger to end it._

_All he had to do was pull the trigger to end Alfred._

_All he had to do was pull the trigger to kill his little brother._

"_Stupid boy!" He spat as threw down the musket. "I could never shoot you."_

_Alfred's eyes widened in shock, "d-does that mean-" he was cut off as Britain's first suddenly lashed forward and smashed into his chin._

_Alfred F. Jones dropped like a sack of potatoes._

"_I may not be able to shoot you but I can still beat some damn sense into you," snapped Britain. He bent down and pulled his younger brother's arm around his shoulder and lifted the dazed colony._

"_God dammit boy what have you been eating? Bricks?" Heaved Britain, as he forced his way away from the battlefield, the British soldiers routing their American counterparts._

"_Stuff that doesn't give you food poisoning," responded Alfred sluggishly._

"_Argh, I should have let you go," fumed Britain, but he still held his little brother close nonetheless._

**Author's Note: Okay people, this is a oneshot for now but if enough people review I might make it into a full fanfic.**


	2. Twisted Reflections

Disclaimer: I do not own Code Geass, Axis Powers: Hetalia, or any of their associated characters or fictional locations.

_America shifted nervously at the table, feeling uncomfortable under the gaze of his brothers and sisters. Many of them had been silently cheering for him when he had declared independence for, despite what they felt toward or against Arthur, their feelings against Britain remained unchanged._

_Then again just as many had been steadfastly against his rebellion, believing in both Arthur the person and Britain the Empire, treating his rebellion as a betrayal of their trust._

_They were seated around a large rectangular table in England's dining room, many of America's brothers and sisters were seated beside and across him, Ireland happened to be the one facing him at the moment, she happened to be one of the ones who had supported him so she wasn't going out of her way to make things unpleasant for him._

_Not that he had expected anything less, Ireland may have loved Arthur as her brother but hated Britain for the centuries of hell he had put her and her people through._

_On his right was Scotland, he unfortunately was one of the people in the second camp. The sub-nation had existed for as long as Britain or, as he knew him, England, had and had joined with his brother willingly when the Roman invaders had come to their island. Even if he didn't get along with Arthur personally he was still very much loyal to Britain as whole and would doubtlessly be personally slighted by Alfred's betrayal, he was as much Great Britain as Arthur after all. It was a good thing America had Wales on his left though, the smaller sub-nation had often rebelled against his brother in order to regain his independence._

"_So..." Alfred started, trying to inject some joviality into the tense atmosphere. "How has everyone been?'_

"_Oh, you know, this and that," replied Ireland, twisting a fiery red lock around her finger. "Hunting Leprechauns here, dodging trolls there, the usual."_

"_Not that you'd know anything about that eh, _brother_," sneered Scotland.  
"Oh come on, just because he wanted to escape our dear _master's_ claws make him any less our family," snapped Wales._

_Scotland looked past America to glare at Wales. "Just the sort of thing I'd expect from ye, ye've been trying to stab me and Arthur in the back for centuries haven't ye, ye little-"_

"_All right everyone, dinner time!" Came Arthur's voice from the kitchen, for a second everyone forgot their animosity and shared in resigned despair as the scent of Britain's infamous cooking wafted through the dining room._

"_I hope you're all hungry!" Sang Arthur as he strode through the doorway to the kitchen, carrying some kind of green-tinted pie, large mittens adorning his hands._

"_Dear Gods man, what kind o' sick monstrosity have ye conjured up this time?"_

"_Wow, I didn't think you could murder food but there you are."_

"_What is that thing anyway?'_

"_I-I think it's a pie."_

"_Forget taxes, _this_ is the reason I rebelled!"_

"_Oh come on, it's not that bad." Huffed Britain, inching away slightly from his family, his various brothers and sister having jumped from their chairs and began moving towards him._

"_No, it's worse," replied Wales._

"_The Devil himself wouldn't let that thing past his doors!" Snapped Scotland._

"_It looks like it could eat me!" Said Ireland._

"_Fine!" Arthur shoved the pie onto a nearby side-table. "I'll go get France to make something, happy now?"_

_There was instantaneous cheering._

"_Ungrateful whelps," muttered Arthur as he left the room, he would later come back with Francis. The other nation having been snooping around Britain's house for days now in the hopes of 'seeing Arthur'. As the night progressed America found himself enjoying his dinner with his family for the first time in years, Ireland and Arthur idly remarking about faeries and unicorns. Scotland and Wales swearing to make Arthur take cooking lessons from France if it was the last thing they ever did. Even the smaller colonies who had recently been brought into the family were enjoying themselves._

_The tension in the air had disappeared, the old rivalries and arguments forgotten, even if it was for only a night. And as Alfred glanced at Arthur, every now and then the Nation would glance across the room and a small smile would grace his features at the sight of his family finally acting like one._

*****

Alfred shook himself out of his musings, these little flashbacks were becoming more common lately. He gazed across the room, the scene seemingly a twisted reflection of the scene within his minds eye.

He was seated at the top of a long rectangular table, varnished until the oak became like a mirror. Seated around the table were his many colonies, his areas, his empire. The ones nearest to him were his most valuable possessions, the recently conquered African areas and some of the south American ones. Further down were his other areas, there were few of the Europeans there, middle Europe still stubbornly refusing to give in and most of the others still in recovery. The only ones among their number who had been given places tonight were the two Italy's, having been inseparable since their capture and Alfred's new show-piece, the former Nation of Britain Arthur Pendragon, formerly Kirkland.

He was Alfred's new pride, having managed to conquer his own former Motherland had to be among his greatest achievements. The only thing marring the scene was the fact that Arthur was completely despondent instead of being ready to answer any questions his master had, of course the fact that he was drugged to the point of being unable to move without several handlers on hand may have had something to do with it. Of course that couldn't be helped, Arthur simply refused to come willingly and her was the only one among the various new Area's that was still presentable besides the two Italy's and Charles had asked to see their new territories in person.

Presentable meaning that his face was still relatively undamaged.

"A most pleasing sight Britannia," said Charles from his position behind him. "Although I would have appreciated being able to see the full extent of our new territory this is more than adequate."

"Thank you my lord." Replied Alfred, sipping his drink. "I apologise for the absence of the others, but they're still in recovery."

"I see, not to worry. We still have our prize don't we," he walked over to Arthur and patted one shoulder from behind his chair. "At last, after so many years our ancestral home belongs to the Empire once more. This is a grand day indeed Britannia, celebrations have began in the capital and today had been named and imperial holiday in light of this achievement! All that's left is to exterminate the last of the rebels and never again will the Empire be mocked for lacking lands we are named after."

Arthur seemed shift slightly, his blank staring green eyes beginning to refocus. "... Not.. yet..".

Charles frowned. "I beg your pardon."

"I don't think that s wise my Lord, he has been most insistent in resisting our command-"

".. I said.. not yet!" Spat Arthur, haphazardly ripping Charles hand from his shoulder as he fought the sedative. "I.. made sure.. Wales and... Scotland would be able to fight," he gasped forcing the words through numbed lips and leaden tongue. "You.. won't have them... Ireland will protect them..."

"What is the meaning of this?" Snapped Charles, dragging Arthur by the shirt up to face him. We have finally liberated you from the control of the Euro Universe and you repay us with this rebellious behaviour? I warn you this will not be tolerated Arthur Pendragon."

"That's Kirkland... bastard..." Arthur suddenly spat in Charles face. "And that's something to remember me by you pompous Git."

Charles growled and threw Arthur to the ground to the ground, dabbing at his face with a hanky from his pocket. "Were you not our ancient homeland this insolence would not go unpunished, as you are however I am willing to overlook this incidence." He looked to Alfred. "See that this does not happen again."

Alfred nodded. "Of course my lord, I assure you it will not happen again."

Charles seemed satisfied and began to walk away, his lips pressed together. Arthur struggled to move on the floor, the brief surge of energy at seeing his captor treat him like a trophy fading to reduce his drugged limbs to leaden weights. Moment's later he spied Alfred's face staring down at him.

"Damn you Arthur," he hissed. "Why can't you just accept your place here?"  
Arthur would have responded, but his tongue felt like a million tons and his body was like a prison of darkness and lancing pain. The agony left by London's destruction reverberated throughout his being, centred where the heart that represented it fluttered, sustained only by the waning strength of his people.

Suddenly the pain intensified, daggers twisting his stomach and liver, his people were dying. Could Charles have sought vengeance on his people after all, had his petty insult cost hundreds their lives? The agony grew worse, causing a hiss of pain to come through his lips, the pain came from Liverpool and Oxford, his liver and his middle lower abdomen. Those had been English rebel cities, which meant that Charles had not ordered mass executions, no instead his army had began the destruction of two more of his cities, taking hundreds, if not thousands of their occupants and defenders with them. The pain grew as the wounds in his flesh deepened and widened, the Britannian soldiers ripping through his people, driving destruction across his lands. His vision blurred and he felt something trickle down his check, as the frantic screams for help of his people as they were slaughtered echoed through his soul. Accompanying him as he fell from the waking hell, his 'brother's' face disappearing as the darkness claimed his sight, and into the world of dreams.

*****

"_Alfred."_

"_Alfred!"_

"_ALFRED!"_

"_Wha-," the colony blinked as he spotted Arthur's face above him. "Hey, what's with the look, I did all my paperwork-"_

"_It's not about you slacking off with your paperwork you dolt!" Snapped Arthur. "I need you to take care of my Royal family."_

_Alfred sat up instantly. They were in his house, a gift from Britain when he had finally allowed him to return to his lands. "What do you mean, are they on holiday or something?"_

"_Of course not you idiot!" Replied Arthur, he sighed, the expression belying the anxiety that so plagued him. "I'm afraid London has fallen-"_

"_What!" Alfred stood up from the couch, he liked rest on it after a days work in the office. "What do you mean?"_

"_Napoleon, he managed to invade me, and he's chasing my armies across the country. Right now I'm calling on the Empire to bolster my strength, to try and drive Francis and his armies out of my lands but there's every chance I am going to taken over by Napoleon. So to make sure that the Empire survives, so that even I fall that my people will be able to find a safe haven, I'm sending my Royal family to you."_

"_W-wait up, what happens if you end up being taken over?"_

"_What do you think you thick git." Arthur rubbed his temple. "Then you will temporarily become the new centre of the Empire, perhaps even permanently should my rescue prove impossible."_

"_Me, the centre of the..." Alfred trailed off as visions of taking Arthur's place as head of the Empire crossed his mind. Taking care of the colonies, making sure none of the other Empire's found a weakness to exploit, ensuring disputes were settled before disaster..._

"_I'm not ready!" He blurted. "I-I don't know how to run an Empire-"_

"_I know," said Arthur wearily. "And I'm sorry to thrust this on you. but you're the only one who will be able to do it, your family needs you Alfred."_

"_But... I" Alfred felt numb, it was like a dream from which he couldn't wake up._

_Arthur put his hands on Alfred's shoulders, looking him in the eye. "I trust you Alfred."_

_Alfred felt himself swept away on a torrent of emotions, shock and horror, worry and pride all __melding together into some indescribable feeling. He saw his Brother's imploring eyes before him, _needing_ him, not only for himself but for all those he had come to care for so dearly. He knew at __that moment that Arthur's trust in him was absolute, for he was staring into the very soul of England._

_Could he really shatter that trust?_

_Could he really spit in Arthur's face when he was so vulnerable ?  
Could he really break the faith his brother had in him just so he could go on being a child when his family needed him to be a man?_

"_Sure Arthur!" Alfred grinned cockily. "I'm a hero after all!"_

_It was then that Alfred knew just what he had so nearly lost forever when he saw England's emotions reflected without guard within his eyes. That he felt the love and trust that was worth so much more than any gold as Arthur embraced him without reservation._

"_Thank you," Arthur whispered into his shoulder. "Thank you Alfred."_

*****

Alfred blinked as he was jolted once more into the present, static emerging from the communicator on his desk.

_Area Twenty Eight's presence seems to be bringing up old memories_, he reflected as took the communicator from his belt and pressed one of the buttons set into it's surface.

"Excuse me Sir," a tinny voice came through the device. "General Southampton has requested a teleconference immediately."

"Understood, put him up now." Alfred switched off the communicator, replacing it on his belt before sitting up in his chair to face the screen across his office. His office had changed across the years , becoming more extravagant as his Empire grew, but the desk and the couch from all those years ago remained.

The black screen set into the varnished wooden panels flickered into life, revealing Southampton's wind-chapped face, the Britannian flag behind him. From he background it appeared that he was in one of the mobile control centres Britannia had been using for the past few decades.

"Sir!" Southampton saluted. "I am most honoured to inform you that we have just received Russia's unconditional surrender from Moscow, as we speak the Government is being taken into protective custody."

Britannia paused for a moment. "This is excellent news, I congratulate you General.." And indeed it was most indeed excellent news. "Your new orders are to remain in Moscow and the other major cities and maintain order for the next week. Then you are to leave with approximatively seventy percent of your current forces, including all Knightmare Frames, and head into Germany to assist with the Rebels there. The remaining forces in Russia will be relieved by General's Whittaker and Blackhall."  
Southampton Saluted again. "Understood Sir."

Britannia absently stacked the paper's on his desk into straighter piles. "And what of Russia himself? I you have managed to locate and capture Ivan Braginski haven't you?"

The General nodded. "Yes Sir, he is being transported to Pendragon as we speak."

"Good." Britannia inclined his head. "That is all General."

"Yes Sir." And with that the transmission ended, Leaving Britannia with his thoughts once more.


	3. Rebellion

Disclaimer: I do not own Code Geass, Axis Powers: Hetalia or any of their associated characters or fictional locations.

"Who the fuck does he think he is!" Snarled Prussia, throwing down the latest report detailing their latest defeat at Britanian hands. "Fucking Limey-ripoff."

Seriously who did he think he was to try and attack Germany, did he think that they were just going to lie down and take it like bitches? Okay, so maybe the other German territories were more or less doing just that but not him, not _Prussia_. So what if he hadn't had any real existence for the past seventy years? As long as there were German forces alive fighting the Britannian soldiers there would be a Prussia to lead them into battle, Germany may have been beaten but Prussia was still alive and kicking Britannian ass.

Not that things were going like that right now, if you were to look at the reports he had just thrown down you would see that Prussia was the one having his butt handed to him on a silver platter. But that was going to change, and even if it didn't Prussia was going to keep on fighting until Britannia got the message through his thick head to stay out of Germany, or until he kicked the bucket.

Whichever came first.

Anyway right now he had to pull his act together or it was curtains for Germany, and there was no way he was letting his little brother be turned into one of Britannia's little areas. It was time to teach Britannia just why Prussia was the most awesome Kingdom the earth ever seen! So what if they were outnumbered five to one? That just meant he had more target practice! Knightmare Frames invading? Like they could stand up to a real Knight!

This was what he born for, battling against impossible odds and coming out on top or die trying, or least that was how he had always thought he would end his existence.

For the last Century he had been been growing lesser, slowly fading as the people forgot him and his Kingdom. By the time Britannia had invaded he had been little more than a few scattered towns who had once been the centre of his Empire, and even they too were more German than Prussian.

However it seemed that Fate had one last battle for the Kingdom of Prussia to fight, his call to duty having arrived at his door a few weeks ago...

_Gilbert glanced up as he heard the doorbell ring, few nations beside his brother visited him any more and the German states only visited when West made them. Apparently they still held a grudge from back when he was kicking their asses across Europe._

_Whoever was at the knocked again, this time more insistently. Swearing to himself he got up and unlocked the door._

_However what stepped through the doorway was neither his brother nor a German territory. Before him stood a thin man in his early forties, steel grey at his temples chasing back the natural black._

"_Chancellor Gothberg..." said Gilbert in shock, why was his Brother's Boss here, wasn't he supposed to be organising the war effort?_

"_Mr Beilschmidt," said the Chancellor. "May I come in?"_

_Gilbert blinked. "Yeah, whatever.." he muttered, shutting the door as soon as Gothberg stepped through and settling back into his chair before his fireplace once the chancellor had taken the other._

_Gilbert spoke first, "so.. what's up? Aren't you supposed to be over in Berlin, you know, running the country?"_

_Gothberg sighed and rubbed his hands together. "It just so happens that my presence there is no longer of any use Mr Beilschmidt."_

_Gilbert frowned. "How come," he felt his eyes widen as a horrific possibility came to mind. "You can't mean-"_

"_Yes, I am afraid that as of two hours ago the German Republic unconditionally surrendered to the Holy Britannian Empire, Knightmare frames are moving into Berlin as we speak-"_

_He was cut off as Gilbert suddenly launched himself from his chair and lifted the Chancellor from his own by the throat. "Do you mean to tell me you surrendered my brother to Britannia and came to my house in your fancy suit, without so much as a_ scratch _on you? To tell me you just gave up our __entire civilisation!"_

_The Chancellor grabbed Gilbert's wrists and forced them away, falling back in his chair. "Of course not, I have come here to inform you of two things and to ask you of another. Firstly: I am no longer Chancellor, I resigned when I was overruled on the matter of surrender, secondly I intend to fight Britannia to the last."_

_Gilbert stared him down for a moment before returning to his seat. "Well what are you doing in my house then? If you're looking for help you should have gone to one of the others,in case you didn't notice my army is kind of short on men being non-existent and all."_

_Gothberg leaned forward. "The other states have already been captured or have surrendered. the only one with any fight left in them is you-"_

"_Damn, straight I've got fight left in me," snapped Gilbert. "But sorry to tell you this but I don't exist any more, I'm just memories and myth now, as soon as the old ones in the villages, the last true Prussians, kick the bucket I'll be joining Rome in the sky!"_

_Gothberg smiled. "Ah but that's why I have come to you, it's the thing I wished to speak with you about..." He leaned closer. "How would you like to be a nation again?"_

_Gilbert froze.. "What do you mean?"_

_Gothberg leaned back. "This is how it is, there are thousands, millions even, of Germans ready to fight Birtannia to their last breath, but they lack organisation. What we need is a single army, a single banner which to unite under and to face Britannia with pride. We can't just create one, it would lack meaning and be no more than any of the others being used by other rebel groups. But if we were to to use the banner of Prussia, the very Kingdom that united Germany as one. If we were to resurrect the greatest Kingdom of Germany with myself, the last representative of the people who has not turned traitor to them, as one of the leaders, most if not all Free German's would surely join us!"_

_Gilbert contemplated this. "So basically you want me, the guy who was left to rot by the rest of Germany to save them?"_

_Gothberg met his eyes. "I want you to save yourself, if only as the last bastion of German civilisation."_

_Gilbert remained silent._

_Gothberg spoke again. "I want you to save your brother."_

_Gilbert stared at him for a moment, assessing him, _he's no Old Fitz_, he reflected, _but he's a true patriot. _A grin split his face and he jumped up. "Save West, the rest of those losers and kick Alfred's ass in the process! Now that's my idea of a comeback!" He leaned down to Gothberg. "But let's make one thing clear, I'm a Kingdom, not one of those republics everyone's going on about nowadays, I've always had a monarch of some kind, when I'm allowed to decide anyway, and I'm not changing now. If this is my last dance I'm going out with a King, or Queen, whatever. Old Fritz would have wanted it that way."_

_Gothberg raised an eyebrow. "Germany has been a republic for the past-"_

"Germany_ has been a republic for the past few decades, and in case you haven't noticed, I'm not Germany, I'm _Prussia_. If you want me my Boss sticks with me for life, you retire when you kick the bucket, got that?"_

_Gothberg blinked again. "Very well, I'm not entirely sure how the Free Germans will respond to the idea of a a new king-"_

"_Oh just get my old Royal family back, they'll take the job faster than Italy eats that pasta he's always going on about, that should help things, old Prussian values and all that." Gilbert grinned again. "As for you you can be my new Chancellor, or whatever you want to call yourself. What do you say?" He extended his hand_

_Gothberg hesitated, then took Gilbert's hand. "Agreed, Mr Beilschmidt, may the Prussian flag become the rally of all Free Germans."_

_Suddenly his knees buckled as some indescribable sensation crashed through his form. Life, war, rage, hate, death.. Blood and steel and a people in need, a people in defiance against an indomitable foe, a Kingdom rising from the ashes of a fallen Nation as a black and gold eagle __emblazoned on a black striped white flag._

_There was pressure on his arm, Gothberg was calling to him. "Mr Beilschmit! Mr Beilschmidt are you alright?"_

_Gilbert grinned, "yeah, just one thing though."_

_Gothberg blinked. "Oh?"_

"_Call me Prussia," grinned the Kingdom._

It took two weeks to complete the preparations, as word was passed around however the German people, those who decided to fight to the death rather than yield to servitude under Britannia, flocked to his new territories. Each one adding to his strength, building the Kingdom of Prussia anew.

It had often been said, back in the days before the German unification, that while most Nations were countries with an army, Prussia was an army with a country. Prussia had always both agreed with and basked in the description. And right now, an army was just what the people needed, what the people were, and what Prussia at the very depths of his being was.

Exactly what the free Germans needed at their darkest hour.

Exactly Sixteen days, thirteen hours and seven minutes after Gothberg had spoken to Prussia at his house Gothberg sent a message across the national airwaves, to what was left of the Euro Universe and beyond that the Kingdom of Prussia was officially seceding from the German Republic. Furthermore, Prussia was officially at war with the Holy Britannian Empire.

The puppet-government at Berlin refused to acknowledge them.

The Euro Universe ignored them, on the verge of collapse themselves.

The Britannian's informed them they were in direct violation of Britannian law, and declared peace-keeping forces would be deployed to Koenigsberg.

The newly-formed Prussian government at Koenigsburg ordered the Prussian army to key defensive points across the nation, while volunteers swelled their ranks further.

Prussia officially send a package containing an image to Alfred F. Pendragon. Said image was the Kingdom of Prussia officially granting the Holy Britannian Empire a two fingered salute.

His new King arrived shortly after the first engagements with the Britannian's. He was a forty-something man with greying brown hair, selected not out of order of inheritance but due to his position as a former German General famed for both his military expertise and razor intellect that had lead the European forces to victory against seemingly impossible odds dozens of times.

His name was Frederick Hohenzollern.

Britannia walked with his Emperor once more along the pathways of his gardens, the rare plants from across the globe creating a visage like no other.

"How are our forces in Germany faring?" Asked Charles, back straight as a poker.

"We have been recently been suffering a string of defeats and the Knightmare Frames have been unable to attack Berlin due to extensive anti-artillery weapons from east Germany, and our ground forces in the area cannot defeat the sheer numbers of Rebels in the city. However General Southampton and the majority of his forces will arrive through Poland in the three days we will be able to attack on both fronts."

"I see, what of our forces in the homeland then?"

Britannia hesitated for a moment before forging on. "The British rebels still maintain control of much of northern England, however most of the major cities in the southern and central regions have either fallen under our control or been destroyed, two of the rebels last major English cities, Liverpool and Oxford were recently bombed and any survivors won't be able to reach the other rebel cities until after we have already dealt with them."

"And what of Wales and Scotland?"

"Britain managed to destroy most of the major roads on the Welsh border before being forced back, making a land assault near impossible, and with our navy still badly damaged from the battle for the Mediterranean it will be quite some time before we can move against the Welsh forces. However this also means that Wales cannot assist the English rebels.

"Scotland on the other hand is still accessible, but only through Rebel territory, in addition Edinburgh's fortifications have been recently built up in case of an attack. However Scotland's armed forces are no where near as numerous as those in England and we should be able to starve them out should it come to that."

Charles nodded once again. "Very well, secure the main ration outposts in northern France, then send as many forces from the area as possible to reinforce those fighting in England."

Britannia bowed his head. "As you wish my Lord."

Charles spoke once more, "and just what is the condition of our new Areas?"

"Most of the Areas have began to recover, the former Italies have even entered the Development stage since their lands were so easily occupied, and therefore left mostly undamaged." Replied Britannia.

"Have you decided as to which one will represent the new Area?"

Alfred hesitated. "No my Lord, I believe-"

"You must decide which one will become the new Area by the end of the week, if we allow them both to survive then cultural integration into the Empire will be impossible." It was a logical decision: since there were two beings representing a single Area he could kill one of them and the other's culture would take it's place, whereas normally if he killed a Nation a new one would form with a similar culture as the former. It was a rare chance to speed up the transition of Nation to Area, one that they could not afford to neglect. Two strong cultures existing as the same Area would simply render Britannian influence useless, ensuring 'Italy' remained as such within the hearts of the numbers rather than simply another colony.

"... I understand, it shall be done," said the Superpower. "However not all of the Areas have fared as well. The former Austria has yet to awaken from his coma-"

"Will he recover?"

"Of course, so long as our people live we Nations cannot truly die. Although Roderich came very close, had he been human he would have has no chance. "

"I see, has there been any improvement of his condition at all?"  
"His left lung and ribs have began to reform with the rebuilding of the eastern cities, however there no telling of how long it will before his arm regenerates."

"I do trust it will not be permanent?"

"There may be a scar where the arm as severed but apart from there should be no permanent damage."

"Excellent, and what of Russia and Britain?"

Britannia took a breath. "Russia's injuries were relatively minor, he should be out of the medical bay within a few days." Alfred shifted uncomfortably. "Britain, however has made no progress."

Charles frowned. "I take it then he is still attempting to rebel."

"Yes," sighed Alfred. "Great Britain never officially surrendered, we may have destroyed London but a large portion of the Government had already fled to Edinburgh and directing their armies from there. So long as they don't surrender Britain's representative will continue to decline."  
Charles brow wrinkled in thought, "What if we were to initiate the process of Colonisation, would the recovery process in our current territory be able to sustain him?"

Alfred shook his head. "Any attempt to convert him to an Area will simply result on a new representative being formed for the territory we have under our control. Arthur represents Britain, and as Great Britain has not surrendered to Britannia we technically have no control over him, the territory we take does not remain of a part him. And I honestly believe that Arthur would die before willing joining the Empire as an Area."

Charles clasped his hand behind his back. "Then there is no way to save him? It would be shame if our ancestral homeland was to die on the day of our long awaited reunification."  
"I'm afraid not," responded Britannia. "So long as Great Britain continues to fight our forces Arthur will not recover."

The Emperor walked ahead, arms clasped behind his back, the green garden of either side of the yellowing walkway in stark contrast to his bright red coat. "What if we were to kill him ourselves instead of attempting to revive him?" He suddenly faced Britannia, speaking quickly. "If he will die at any rate then the sooner he expires the better. After all by killing their Nation the British would lose their unity, their spirit, the very thing that makes them a people and our forces would be able to crush them in a matter of days!"

Alfred's body went cold, "n-no. Killing Arthur would only result in representation of Great Britain being transferred to his brother Scotland as that's where his Government is right now. And that would make things worse, Arthur is battered and worn, the very core of his Nation has been gutted. Scotland however remains relatively untouched, his own lands have yet to be invaded and is thus strong and healthy. Buy giving him command of Great Britain the people will rally at Edinburgh, new supply lines will form and the British army will triple their efforts to drive us from England."

"And what if we injured him?"

Britannia shook his head. "It would have no effect, any injury a human or machine inflicts on a Nation will not effect their people or lands, indeed if you were to decapitate him his body would simply reform. As for myself, there is no point, if I try to harm Arthur the action will translate on the battlefield to attempt another attack and our soldiers in the area are already fighting to their full ability. I can't harm Arthur any more as a Nation than I already am. The effect would be the same as a humans."

Charles frowned, and turned to continue walking down the pathway once more. "Very well, just make certain he is restrained in case he attempts to escape again."

_Arthur gasped as he fell to his knees, his hand still clenched around the flag he had carried into battle._

"_Oh Angleterre..." sighed France, trying and failing to suppress his obvious pleasure at seeing his long time foe kneeling in the dirt before him. "I told you not to struggle, I told you it was inevitable, but no, you insist on fighting. Honestly, it's like you enjoy pain, not that it would surprise me, your people for all their accusations are perverse in ways my own cannot even imagine."_

"_S-Shut you mouth you fucking frog!" Spat Britain. "You think you've won don't you, well take a look at the city.!" He forced his empty hand upwards at the burning London behind France, France's eyes narrowed._

"_I fail to see what you seem to think is so important Angleterre, perhaps you appreciate being rid of that festering sore of a city?"_

"_No you stupid frog, look at the Thames!"_

_France directed his gaze downward, only to gasp as he saw numerous small ships escaping through the mouth of the famous river._

_France whirled around. "What have you done!" He spat, livid._

_Britain smirked."That, dumb Frog, was my Government escaping. Since you already took Scotland I couldn't send them to Edinburgh, so I'm sending them to the colonies."_

_France frowned. "Amerique, why?"_

_Britain forced his legs to hold his weight, startling France. "So they an set up a new Government over there, and once they do they're going to have more than enough to power to force back any armies you send at them, and eventually they'll get enough power to topple you, and when they do I'll be free again. That, you thick, frog-fucking whore is what I have done."_

_France seemed to freeze for a few moments as though in shock, but Arthur had know him too long to think so, long enough to know that the foppish facade was cracking underneath the black rage that was the shadow of the passionate nation. And thus, he was by no means shocked when France's hand smacked across his face with enough force to send him sparling into the mud in an undignified heap._

"_Après eux!" Screamed France, "Envoyez-les au fond, tuez-les tous!"_

_The French soldiers around Francis rushed to obey their nation, sending the message to the ship captains to kill all aboard the ships.._

_Arthur released a despairing sigh, knowing that the people who had volunteered to act as decoys would be dead within minutes, and knowing that the ship that was carrying his actual ministers was setting off from a little known port a few miles north of London. Doubtlessly France would anticipate such a move, however as the ship was flying a Russian flag he would have no choice but let it pass unmolested, in fact the Russian ambassador was aboard the ship to ensure that even if France did attack the ship he would have to pay with a war._

"Britain..."

Arthur stirred sluggishly, his mind rising to the surface against his will,, seeking to remain hidden in the shadows of the past than to see what the light of the present revealed.

"Oh little Arthur, please wake up for me, I've been ever so lonely.." the person's voice stirred some instinct that forced Britain's mind to surface. And so as Arthur awaken and blearily look to the owner of the voice that had disturbed his dreams he found himself looking straight into the two empty sockets where Russia's Amethyst eyes had once been.

A wail of horror reverberated around the room, it took Arthur a moment to realised that the banshee-like sound was born from his own throat.

"Is there something wrong?" Asked Ivan in a concerned tone.

"N-no," stammered Arthur, forced down another scream.

"That's good, I hope you're not hurt too badly. My eyes are gone so I couldn't see how damaged you are." Said Russia in a slightly sad tone. "It's been very boring since they put me here, but now that you're awake I have some company!" His voice now changed to one of child-like joy.

"Er, yes..." Arthur swallowed, forcing his own eyes away from the disturbing image of the maimed one before him.

"I suppose you put up quite the fight for them to have brought you here, da? That's good, I have always admired those who force their enemies to pay in blood for every inch they take!" Russia's featured twisted into something between malice and pleasure. "I made sure Alfred paid in more than his fair share for me, I only stopped once the government surrendered, of course by then Alfred's bombs had already levelled so many of my beautiful cities... and taken my eyes of course, not that that stopped me." A shrill laughter passed through his lips.

Arthur forced his sight away from Russia altogether, turning his eyes instead to the rooms other occupant. For a second he didn't recognise the European nation, before catching sight of the distinctive glasses on the table beside his bed and the lock of hair protruding above his forehead.

"Austria..." gasped Britain, his gaze fixed with morbid curiosity on the bandaged area where the Nation's arm had once been.

"Yes, little Roderich was brought in before me." Said Russia in a sad tone. "I think he's in a coma, or he's been ignoring me all this time which wouldn't be very nice of him..." Russia licked his lips. "Little Arthur, could you tell me what you see?"

"I beg your pardon?" Britain frowned.

"I can't see what has happened to our dear musician," sighed Russia apologetically. "So tell me, what confined our dear friend to the hospital bed?"

"Well..." Britain swallowed. "His arm, it... it's gone."  
"Gone, how?" Russia's voice took on a childlike curiosity. "Explain."

"It's just gone, I can't tell through the bandages."

"Oh... what about his body then?"

"It's covered up in bandages, but I can see scorched skin around the edges-"

"So he was burned then?" Russia gleeful tone. "Alfred must have used his bombs to level Roderich's cities, a sign to warm of what happens to resistance perhaps? Quite ruthless of him..."

Arthur shifted uncomfortably at the tone of Russia voice. "Enough."  
"What, oh... aren't you going to tell me what happened to you, I would so love to hear how your beloved _Америки_ ripped and tore through your armies-"

"Stop it Ivan," snapped Britain, turning to face Russia.

"How his soldiers massacred your citizens-"

"I said stop it!" Shouted Arthur. "I'm not playing this game with you!"

"Very well, as you wish, little Arthur." Russia seemed content.

Arthur scowled. "I suppose this means that Alfred's won now, doesn't it?"

Russia chuckled. "I suppose... all _Америки _has to do now is defeat Пруссия and he will have defeated the EU."

"What, did you say Prussia?" Arthur shook his head. "What is he up to this time?"

"Oh, our little hot head has managed to rally an army to give _Америки_ quite the headache, he's trying to save his brother, but alas he will fail and be killed. Still, I suppose his fate is more glorious than that of the other German states, they will likely die once the colonisation process is done."

Arthur frowned. "And what of China, surely he is still free?"

Russia sighed. "I am afraid that our friend to the south has surrendered to your upstart."

"What do you mean, China has more than enough of an army to fight Alfred to a standstill on his home ground!"

"Ah," Ivan shook a finger at Arthur, as if he were a disobedient child. "But why fight against what amounts to the civilised world and destroy yourself in the process, as would surely happen if China fought the against the empire, when you can join them as an equal?"  
Arthur went cold. "What do mean?"

Russia leaned forward. "I mean that he and Britannia have agreed to a _union_. Within the next month the Crown Prince and the Empress of China will be wedded, and the Holy Britannian Empire and the Chinese Federation will become one nation, equals in empire. China will gain all the benefits of being parts of the Holy Britannian Empire while retaining all the benefits of remaining independent."

"But if China unites with Alfred..." Arthur's green eyes widened in horror. "It's only a matter of time before-"

"The world is completely conquered by Britannia," Russia smiled. "If China goes with Alfred then the only major trading partner left is Britannia, making them as dependent as if they were already areas. And even if they should find some way of surviving on their own, and cut off all links to the empire to avoid cultural assimilation Alfred would conquer them as easily squashing a bug." Russia's smile gained a hint of malice. "A single world order, a global state, what I always wanted, what we _all_ wanted."

Arthur fought to keep from looking away, even though Russia wouldn't see it if he did. It was a test of his character. He swallowed before speaking, "you... you know that none of us wanted this to come to pass, none of us ever went as far as Alfred has-"

"No, we merely inspired him, after all what are his areas but colonies? What is his cultural suppression of the areas but the process by which we created our Empire's across the seas, reducing nations to mere extensions of ourselves..." Russia's childlike voice dipped to a whisper. "What is he but your _successor_?"

"What? What do you mean?" Asked Britain even tough he knew the answer.

"Why do you think he calls himself 'Britannia', why do you think he goes to such lengths, why do you think he is so strong? He is the prodigy, the finished product, the polished gem. When you fell he took your throne and grew to become what we all were but _more._ Where we failed he succeeds, where we claim victory he does it in but a fraction of the effort..."

Russia suddenly lunger forward and grasped Arthur's wrist in a vice like-grip, dragging the island nation's ear next his mouth. "When you were reduced to nothing more than a battered little colony above Europe he became you, and inherited everything that made you who you were, your people fleeing Napoleon, your culture, thriving in a new home, even your leaders embraced him as the new, stronger Britannia as opposed to the weak, failed little island that had once walked among the greats."  
Arthur tried for rip his wrist from Russia's, only to fail and the wounds across his body leech his strength from him. "No-"

"Yes, you just don't want to admit that you're nothing more than an empty shell of what was once a powerful independent nation, a relic of a passed age waiting to join it in oblivion-"

A second passed before Arthur realised that Russia's face no longer next to his own, and a second longer to realise Russia was leaning back across his bed, a puzzled expression as to why his nose was bleeding.

It was the pain in his knuckles that finally brought the fact that he had just struck Russia across the face to his attention.

"Ahh," grinned Russia as he slowly rose up, his nose reforming, a disturbing scene of bone visibly moving beneath the skin like a snake in a muddy river and blood running upwards like a candle melting in reverse. "It seems you have some spirit left in you. I was worried you had had that infamous tenacity beaten out of you at London."

"It'll take more than that to make me lie down like a dog to the likes of _you_," spat Britain.

Russia smiled. "Good, then might I assume that you are also not going to 'lie down like a dog' for Britannia then?"

"Firstly, _I _am Britannia, Alfred's just got up himself for the past few centuries." Growled the Island Kingdom, feeling the beat of war drums in his heart, the silent rage of nation on the verge of destruction but battling to the death rather than serve their enemies. "And secondly, and listen closely because I'm only going to say this once: Britons shall never be slaves!"

Russia's smile widened. "Good, since the Russian's shall also, as you put it, 'never be slaves' I suggest we work together."

Arthur hesitated for a moment, then he felt the battle raging across his lands, if he were to close his eyes and concentrate he would be able to feel the stoicism that had borne him through so many catastrophes, and the determination of his people to fight on to bitter end. "Of course, I think we're both going to need one another if we're going to teach Alfred to respect his elders."

"Excellent," smiled Russia. "Then I think we should first think of a way out of this place, we are no use trapped in Alfred's house, da?"

Arthur nodded. "Yes, and we should try and free as many others as we can as well, the more allies we can get the better."

"So we are committed to freeing ourselves and all other's from Britann- oh my apologies, _Америки's_ oppression then?" Asked Russia curiously.

"Yes, and failure is not an option." Britain's lips settled into firm resolution. "If we succeed we free everyone from Alfred, if not..."

"We die." Said Russia, without so much as hint of worry. "Along with all our people and any possibility of freedom in the future. It is time, my dear comrade, to embark on the path of blood, it is, to borrow one of dear France's revolutionary oaths. Freedom or death."

"Yes," _a oath of bloody revolution, how fitting_, reflected Britain. "Freedom or death."


End file.
